


The Crumbling Difference Between Wrong and Right

by lit_chick08



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Adultery, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Multi, POV Male Character, Season 2 spoilers, Secret Relationship, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-31
Updated: 2012-03-31
Packaged: 2017-11-02 20:04:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lit_chick08/pseuds/lit_chick08
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alaric never thought he was the type of man who would betray the ones he loved for a woman but maybe it was because he hadn’t met Elena then</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Crumbling Difference Between Wrong and Right

He had noticed her his first day at Mystic Falls High, sitting a few rows back, buried beneath all of that impossibly long hair. She was beautiful in a different way than her classmates, who were hidden beneath makeup and painted into clothing that accentuated the curves that God and Victoria’s Secret had given them; she was almost unaware of just how beautiful she was, which Alaric would have found unbearably attractive if he was not 32-years-old and her history teacher.

She didn’t speak up in class; most of the time she was passing notes with Bonnie Bennett or subtly stealing glanced towards Stefan Salvatore, who was always smiling devotedly in return. The first time he ever called on her, she stumbled a bit, blushing brightly and stuttering through an apology for not having the answer; when he asked her to stay after class, she shifted uneasily, expecting chastisement.

“You’re too smart to only be pulling a C in this class,” he said, erasing the board as he spoke. 

“I’m sorry,” she replied by rote.

“Don’t be sorry. Just be better.” He turned around, unable to stop from smiling at her obvious discomfort. “I’m sure that you have a thousand different things going on in your life right now and all of them are more interesting than US History. But I’ve read your papers, and you are incredibly insightful when you put in the work. So let’s make this the last conversation we ever have to have on your grades, okay?”

Elena smiled, the compliment obviously flattering her, and Alaric had a sudden, insane urge to brush her hair over her shoulder. “I’ll do better, Mr. Saltzman, I promise.”

The next day, she answered three questions about the Battle of Wounded Knee, complete with observations and analysis that could have only come from doing the reading, including the supplemental articles he had suggested. Alaric was barely able to keep himself from fawning over the accomplishment, swallowing back a grin even as he praised her.

Stefan Salvatore hadn’t been in class that day.

Alaric wondered if it made a difference.

* * *

It surprised him that Jeremy Gilbert was her brother. 

Alaric liked Jeremy; how could he not like a kid who had been included in a file labeled “jackass?” But Jeremy was obviously young, a little too eager to have someone value what he said, a little too socially awkward to have a passel of friends the way his sister did; there was somberness in Jeremy Gilbert that didn’t seem to exist in Elena.

The night at the Grill when he met Jenna, she explained that she was Jeremy and Elena’s guardian, how their parents had been killed in a car accident when the family vehicle had hydroplaned and crashed into Willow Creek. She explained how Elena had barely survived and Jeremy had only recently started to act like himself again, having briefly sojourned into the world of alcohol and drug abuse. 

The next time he saw Elena, he couldn’t shake the image Jenna had presented; he kept imagining what it must have been like for her to be trapped in the car her parents had died in, the water rushing in and threatening to take her too. It changed the way he looked at her, warped the image he had constructed based on observations and supposition.

Alaric understood better than anybody how losing someone you loved could change you from the person you had always thought you were into a person you never imagined being. After all, he never would have been a high school history teacher in Mystic Falls, Virginia, if Isobel hadn’t disappeared.

He told Isobel once his entire life had changed when he met her.

Some days he wished he never had.

* * *

When he earned his Bachelor’s and then his Master’s at Duke, he envisioned himself as a professor, speaking eloquently in front of lecture halls, pontificating about World War Two and Elizabethan England to his heart’s content. He imagined publishing papers and maybe even writing books on his views, being respected by his students and included in discussions with the professors that he admired as a student.

In none of his daydreams did he envision being a chaperone at a 1950’s inspired high school dance.

He was wrangled into chaperoning by the principal, who had heavily hinted that Mr. Tanner used to chaperone all the dances. Alaric wanted nothing to do with chaperoning but given how heavily his boss was playing the “did I mention the old history teacher died tragically and left us shorthanded” card, he felt there was little chance he could dodge it and not look like a total dick.

Asking Jenna to help him chaperone was an impulsive decision. One night, after running into her at the Grill again, he realized that he had not been on a date since Isobel’s disappearance. Back in Durham, friends tried to encourage him to restart his life but he had been so far into his grief he couldn’t fathom moving on when Isobel’s killer roamed free. But something changed after he staked Logan Fell; a perverse sense of peace started settling through his body, the first indications maybe he wasn’t dead inside after all. 

Alaric was lonely. He had lost touch with his friends from school and the couples he and Isobel had socialized with; his family was convinced he’d lost his mind, refusing to return to Massachusetts after the disappearance, giving up his adjunct position at UNC to teach high school history in Virginia. The only people outside his students that he regularly interacted with was the bartender at the Grill, and it was more than a little depressing to realize that, if he were to perish in one of the Mystic Falls “animal attacks,” no one would even miss him.

Jenna was nothing like Isobel. Disregarding looks entirely, Jenna was overly verbal, quick to laugh and even quicker to blush; she threw back tequila with the expertise of someone who missed her carefree lifestyle and teased him about his preference for scotch. Jenna Sommers was the kind of woman who had never kept a secret in her life, had no desire to keep a secret, and probably wouldn’t have known how even if she tried. There was something utterly refreshing and carefree about her despite what had happened to her sister and brother-in-law.

His mother had frequently referred to Isobel as an “old soul.” His wife was notoriously aloof around strangers and always chose her words with striking particularity. She never offered more information than was necessary and refused to speak about her life before coming to Duke, twenty-two missing years Alaric learned would never be discussed. And even though she had a tendency to become utterly self-involved and almost dismissive of other people’s needs, at her core, Isobel had been a good person. She remembered details about people’s lives, helped others when she could, and never gave into the petty infighting within her department. People missed Isobel Saltzman when she went missing but many times could not expound on why they did.

In her poodle skirt and sweater set, Jenna could have passed for one of the students; she smiled prettily when he told her she looked nice and offered to get her punch. He was rusty at interacting with people who were not dependent upon the grades he gave them; he was especially rusty at speaking to women.

When he saw Elena enter the dance flanked by Stefan and the man who haunted his nightmares, immediately he wished he had his kit with him. There was something in the way she stood between them, her eyes flicking across the dance floor as if surveying the area that made him uneasy. But she did not appear to be scared of the dark-haired monster on her left; if anything, she seemed annoyed.

Learning the monster - _Damon_ \- was Stefan’s brother made him wonder if Stefan knew what his big brother was. Watching the way that Damon leered at Elena and gleefully danced with a variety of girls made Alaric shake with rage, hating how his wife’s murderer got to be untroubled while Alaric struggled to find a way to return to life.

That was the moment he decided he was going to kill Damon Salvatore.

* * *

In a terribly twisted way, it made perfect sense that Elena was Isobel’s daughter. If Alaric was the kind of man who believed in fate, he might’ve believed that finding out that his wife had given up a baby for adoption as a teenager and Alaric finding that daughter after her death was the universe’s way of giving him back a part of the woman he loved.

But Alaric did not believe in fate, and the simple sight of Elena now made him horribly resentful.

Before they even married, Isobel had been adamant that she didn’t want to have children. He thought she would eventually change her mind, so overcome with love for him that she’d eventually cave. But it was the one thing she never wavered on, the one thing she denied him unequivocally.

If he was a better man, he could’ve acknowledged that, whatever the circumstances of Elena’s birth were, they had damaged Isobel so badly she could not imagine living through it again. But he was not a better man and he was terribly bitter she had given birth to another man’s child.

From the stage, even as rage started to blind him, he could see Elena’s face fall at Damon’s callous taunting of him, see the horrified realization dawn before she darted out the door, Stefan on her heels. And for the first time since Jenna broke the news, Alaric considered just how damaging this was to Elena. She already lost one mother; now she knew there was no hope in finding another.

It was the memory of Elena’s beautiful face twisted in outrage which made him stalk Damon back to the boardinghouse in his attempt at poorly-planned revenge.

* * *

She stayed after class a few days later, determination written all over face. He didn’t notice until everyone else had left, good-naturedly complaining about the term paper that was due the following week, and she remained seated, sliding out of her desk with calculated calm.

“Do you have a question about the paper?”

Elena shook her head, a few strands of hair escaping from her messy ponytail. “No, I just…I wanted to thank you for what you did this weekend.”

Alaric shifted uneasily, folding his arms tightly across his body. He hadn’t wanted to help Stefan; he had no real problem with the younger Salvatore beyond his vampirism but that was reason enough for him to not want to save him. And he sure as hell hadn’t wanted to help Damon, so unrepentant about turning Isobel and killing him. If it wasn’t for the ring he wore, he would have drowned in his own blood on the Salvatore living room floor, and the idea of assisting Damon – even if it _was_ to help Stefan – turned Alaric’s stomach.

But Elena had looked very young as she pled for his help, doing her best to mediate for Damon, imploring him with big, brown eyes that shone with tears. Alaric tried to refuse her but he also saw the way Damon interacted with her, how he softened under her attentions. Alaric did not believe Damon would ever be someone he could trust, but the idea of Elena going into the house with only Damon was enough to spur him into action.

“Elena – “

“No, please let me finish,” she interrupted, surprising him with the firmness in her voice. “I know how you feel about vampires. And I especially know how you feel about Damon. But you still helped us get Stefan back, and I can never thank you enough for that, Mr. Saltzman.”

“Ric,” he corrected softly.

“What?”

He sighed, rubbing at his face tiredly. “We fought a nest of vampires together, Elena. I think you can call me Ric.”

Elena smiled, shifting her weight in a way that made Alaric follow the line of her body without even being aware of what he was doing. “I heard you punched Damon in the face.”

“I did,” he confirmed.

Her smile blossomed into a full-blown grin. “Was it awesome?”

The laughter that burst forth surprised him. It had been so long since he laughed freely and even longer since someone genuinely surprised him. “It didn’t suck.”

Perching on the edge of a desk, Elena divulged, “I slapped him once but I’m pretty sure it hurt my hand a lot more than it hurt his face.”

“What did he do?”

“He turned Matt Donovan’s sister and then Stefan had to stake her because she tried to kill me.”

He wasn’t sure what was more upsetting: what Damon had done or how nonchalantly Elena revealed it. “Why do you even hang around him?”

She shrugged. “He’s Stefan’s brother, and he’s not going anywhere. I’ve seen Damon do horrible things and what he did to you…It’s wrong and I know it’s wrong. But sometimes, when you least expect it, he’ll do something and you can see the humanity that’s left in him.” She shrugged again. “I guess I have to believe there’s something good in everyone. Does that make me horribly naïve?”

“Yes,” he answered honestly, “but it also makes you a good person.”

Elena brushed a lock of hair away from her eyes. “I don’t know how good I am anymore. Knowing what we do…I think it changes us, makes the bad stuff seem not so bad and makes the good stuff not even feel as good anymore.” 

Alaric wished he didn’t feel the same way.

* * *

When he agreed to escort Jenna to the Miss Mystic Falls pageant, he hadn’t thought much about the actual pageant. For a town with such a small population – and dwindling with every new “animal attack” – he couldn’t believe how much time, effort, and money they put into parties and self-congratulatory celebrations. In the past few days, all he heard about in his class was what color dresses the contestants were wearing, how they were styling their hair, and how their interviews went.

Elena gave no indication she was on the court. While Caroline Forbes described her dress and Tina Fell discussed the shoes she purchased, Elena sat quietly, casting mournful glances at Bonnie and fidgeting more with every day Stefan was gone. He wanted to ask her what was wrong but he wasn’t sure it was his place.

He felt like a teenager when he saw Elena exit Founders’ Hall, the blue dress hugging her body perfectly, dark curls tumbling over her bare shoulders. It had been a very long time since he was this affected by the sight of a woman. He felt the telltale stirrings of desire, tension coiling in his stomach, and it took him a moment to realize Jenna was speaking, asking why she was with Damon.

Alaric was never a jealous man. Even when he was younger, he didn’t allow himself to become overcome with testosterone and threatened by another man. Prior to Isobel’s disappearance, he considered himself to be a reasonable, non-violent man.

But seeing Damon dancing with Elena did something to him. There was a tightness in his chest, an all-encompassing anger tightening around his heart, forcing him to imagine pulling her out of his arms and taking her far, far away. Alaric did not doubt Elena loved Stefan but even in his limited interactions with Damon, Alaric knew the vampire had a soft spot for her. He imagined Damon had been seducing women for over a hundred years; after all, he seduced Isobel.

Alaric wondered what it said about him that the idea of Damon with Elena upset him more than the knowledge of Damon’s relationship with his wife.

* * *

The night Isobel left town, Elena showed up on his doorstep.

He returned from the school feeling less conflicted but he still poured a drink.

And then another.

And then another.

By the time she knocked on his door, he was halfway through a bottle of whiskey, the room starting to shift around him. He debated ignoring it, drinking himself to unconsciousness, but it was the first time since moving to Mystic Falls that anyone had knocked on his door.

Carefully navigating around the boxes he never unpacked, he fumbled with the deadbolt and chain, wrenching open the door to reveal Elena. Judging by the fact she was wearing sweats, her body swallowed by the bulky material, her hair haphazardly gathered in a bun, he knew that this was not a planned visit. Though she seemed to lack the vanity of her classmates, he had never seen Elena so sloppy.

He wondered what she’d look like in his sweats.

“Hey, Elena,” he managed to get out, trying to clear the liquor from his throat.

She suddenly looked nervous, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be here. I’ll go.”

“No,” he quickly said, keeping Elena in place with a hand on her upper arm. “No, come in. Come in.”

For the first time, Alaric realized just what his apartment must look like. Outside of the bedroom, boxes cluttered every square inch, the condo in North Carolina compacted into the one-bedroom hole in the wall he probably paid too much to rent. There were no pictures on the walls, no hint of anyone actually living here. The apartment was just a place to sleep, somewhere a vampire couldn’t enter.

“Jenna mentioned you live here,” Elena offered as he began to clear a spot for her to sit down on the couch. “I’m sorry for just showing up. Really, I can – “

“Don’t worry about it,” he assured her, briefly shutting his eyes to keep the room from spinning. “What can I do for you?”

“I couldn’t sleep because I keep thinking about Isobel. And I realized if I can’t stop thinking about her, then it’s probably a hundred times worse for you. So I guess I just…I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

He raised his head, studying her for a moment, before rasping, “I’ll be okay. You don’t have to worry.”

“But I do,” was all she said in reply.

 

For several minutes they were silent, Elena looking around the apartment, Alaric trying not to stare at her. Finally, just as he was about to offer to get her something to drink, Elena offered, “I thought you’d have more books.”

“Huh?”

“I thought you’d have bookshelves everywhere,” she elaborated, her cheeks flushing pink. “Not that I think about your apartment a lot or anything but…I don’t know. You just seem like you’d have a lot of books.”

“They’re still packed.”

“I could help you unpack if you want. When Jenna moved in, she had ten thousands boxes even though her apartment in Richmond was a little studio; I pretty much did all her unpacking. She said it was just too overwhelming, doing it all herself.”

He hadn’t unpacked because everything reminded him of Isobel; he couldn’t tell her that. “Thank you but…I’ll get to it. I’ve just been busy.”

“Okay.” She took a breath and then blurted out, “You shouldn’t drink so much.”

There wasn’t censure in her voice but it stung like there was. He was suddenly horribly embarrassed; he was 32-years-old and drank himself to sleep at least four nights a week. The closest thing he had to a friend was the vampire who made his wife into a monster; he kept stopping himself from having a relationship with Jenna because he was too afraid. And now he was the guy who was being warned about the perils of drinking from a high school junior.

“Elena – “

“Jenna really likes you,” she cut in, staring at her hands, “and she needs someone solid. If you drink because of Isobel, because you can’t get over her, I understand that. But Jenna deserves a good guy who isn’t going to jerk her around.” Her voice softening, Elena finally met his gaze. “You’re a good guy, Ric. Don’t let Isobel do this to you.”

“It’s late, and you have school tomorrow.”

Elena nodded, getting to her feet and walking to the door. Alaric followed and, when she turned around, he was standing a little too close; the scent of her coconut shampoo filled his nose.

“I’m sorry if I intruded.”

“You’re always welcome here,” he blurted out without thinking, the sincerity of the words making her softly smile.

She rose up on her toes, wrapping her arms around him tentatively; Alaric froze for a moment before returning the embrace, resisting the urge to bury his nose in her hair. As they held each other, Alaric tried to remember the last time he had hugged someone.

After she left, he poured all of the alcohol in the apartment down the drain. 

The entire apartment was unpacked by Saturday.

* * *

The night Damon killed Jeremy, Jenna called him to ask if he would mind staying at the house while she stayed with John and handled the ongoing fiasco that was the fire at Grayson Gilbert’s former office. He entered the house to find Stefan in the kitchen; the vampire explained what happened and Alaric’s first instinct was to make sure Elena was okay.

He was more than well aware it was not a natural reaction.

Jeremy was in his room, body still shaking from fear and shock at what had happened; given that Alaric was the only person in his life who knew what it was like to be killed by Damon and live to tell the tale, he sat in the giant, saucer chair as Jeremy discussed what happened. In another life, he imagined having late night conversations with his son, conversations about girls and college; he hadn’t pictured discussing death and resurrection with his girlfriend’s nephew.

When he left Jeremy’s room, he found himself walking towards Elena’s door unconsciously. He was about to knock when he heard her moan, a noise quickly followed by a masculine voice and then the distinctive sound of mouths meeting. 

It took everything Alaric had not to scream.

* * *

When Elena asked him about getting access to Isobel’s research at Duke, Alaric had no problem in assisting her. But Damon wanted to go as well and, at the way Elena balked, he quickly used what little influence he had over Damon - _and when exactly had he and Damon became friends?_ \- to convince him it was better for just he and Elena to go.

He swore it was because he did not want Elena to feel uncomfortable.

He wished it was his only motivation.

Elena was quiet for the first hour, sleep still heavy in her eyes. They were almost to Durham when she turned down the radio and asked, “Why don’t you run away?”

“What?”

“You know what happened to Isobel now. That’s why you started vampire hunting, right? So now that you know what happened, why not just go back to being normal?”

“Why don’t _you_?” he countered. “You could’ve run when you found out about Stefan, but you didn’t. You stay because you care.” Alaric shrugged. “It’s the same for me.”

“You could still care and not fight vampires.”

“You trying to get rid of me?” 

Elena chuckled, shaking her head and sending her in a wave across her face. “No, of course not, I love having you around. But it’s kind of dangerous to be someone I care about right now.”

Alaric forced himself not to preen like a teenage boy at the verbal confirmation she cared about him. “I’ve got my ring.”

“Which Katherine could chop off like she did John’s ring. Or she could make you a vampire like she did Caroline. Or – “

“Or a thousand other things I’m sure you’ve considered,” he acknowledged. “I know what the risks are, Elena. And the truth is I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Alaric saw pleased surprise flash in her eyes before she dropped them down again, studiously avoiding his gaze. 

* * *

He wasn’t sure why he offered to show her around campus. After finishing with Vanessa and gathering the necessary papers, he noticed Elena looking at their surroundings and the offer fell from his lips before he realized he had made it. Part of him expected her to say no, thanking him for volunteering but wanting to get home to Stefan; instead, she beamed and said she’d love it.

Alaric loved the campus. The happiest years of his life had been spent within its boundaries, and he recognized he was more animated when discussing it. Halfway through his description of a class he had loved, Elena interrupted.

“You really miss it here, don’t you?”

Alaric paused, considering. “I miss the possibility of who I could have been.”

Elena smiled and shrugged. “I like who you ended up being.”

They were in one of the cafes for lunch when Alaric heard someone calling his name. Immediately Alaric recognized Ben Peters, one of the friends he had left behind after Isobel’s disappearance. He accepted his hug easily, trying to remember the last time he had seen him or his wife.

“You look great, man! How’re you doing?”

“I’m doing good. You? How’s Karen?”

“She’s great. We’re having a baby.”

“Congratulations.”

“What are you doing here? I heard you were teaching high school in Virginia or something.”

He hated the way people who used to know him referred to his current job, as if he was slinging crack to kids on a street corner. “Yeah, I teach US History. I’m just picking up a few things from Isobel’s office and showing a friend around campus.”

As if on cue, Elena appeared beside him, two bottles of tea in her hands. “They didn’t have lemon so I got us raspberry.” Noticing the strange man, she flushed prettily. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s fine,” both men said simultaneously, Ben’s eyes appraising Elena far too closely for Alaric’s liking.

“Elena Gilbert, this is an old friend of mine, Ben Peters. Ben, this is Elena.”

They all exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes before Ben glanced at his watch and explained he had a class in ten minutes. Smiling pleasantly at Elena, he shook Alaric’s hand and declared, “It’s good to see you back on the horse, man. Call me next time you’re in town.”

“He thought we were dating, didn’t he?” Elena asked when they were alone, using her fork to pick around the onions in her salad.

“Yes.”

She was quiet a moment before teasing, “You could do worse.”

* * *

“Thank you for today,” Elena said sleepily as they crossed the North Caroline state line back into Virginia.

“It was no problem. Having Isobel’s research – “

“No, not that part,” she interrupted, rolling her head to face him. “I mean, I appreciate that part too but I meant the tour of the campus. It felt nice, walking around and being normal for an afternoon. Sometimes I get so wrapped up in…everything else that I forget about things like college. Today was a really nice reminder.”

“What do you want to go to college for?”

Elena shrugged. “I used to think English because I wanted to be a writer. And then for awhile I thought about maybe being a teacher. Now I just…I don’t know what I want. I just want the chance to be… _something_ , you know?”

Alaric nodded before chuckling a bit. “Are you sure you’re seventeen?”

Drawing her knees up to her chest, she echoed his laugh. “Stefan says I’m an old soul.”

“Well, he’d know.”

Elena’s laughter was high and clear, echoing in the enclosed space of the car. “It’s kind of weird, you know.”

“What is?”

“How you don’t like Stefan but are best buds with Damon.”

“What makes you think I don’t like Stefan?” As an afterthought, he added, “And Damon is not my best bud.”

Flipping through the CDs in the center console, Elena ticked off, “Because you always seem to be glaring at him, even in class. Because you’d rather listen to anything Damon says to you than have to admit Stefan ever has a point. Because whenever both of you are at the house for dinner, you always look like you want to stake him with the wooden spoon. Is it because of what happened with Amber?”

Alaric suddenly wished he had a poker face, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I don’t dislike Stefan. I just don’t necessarily trust him.”

“But you trust Damon, who killed you, turned your wife, and killed my brother?”

“Damon is trustworthy in his untrustworthiness. I expect Damon to eventually fuck me over. What happened with Amber with Stefan, we couldn’t predict. I don’t like unpredictability.” When Elena was silent, afraid he offended her, Alaric quickly said, “That doesn’t mean – “

“No, you’re right,” she cut in, popping in the Beatles CD, John Lennon’s voice now providing a soundtrack to what was quickly becoming the most awkward conversation of Alaric’s life. “We couldn’t predict that, and he could do it again. I’m aware of that.”

“You are?”

Elena pushed her hair back from her face. “Contrary to what everyone seems to think, I’m a pretty realistic person. I know Stefan could lose it again and hurt people, hurt _me_ but that could be true of anyone.”

“Not everyone could tear your throat out.”

“Is this your ‘don’t date a vampire’ speech?”

“No, this is my ‘please be careful because if he hurts you, I _will_ kill your vampire boyfriend speech,’” he countered with a smile.

Rolling her eyes, Elena giggled, “My hero.”

When they reached the house, Alaric went inside, finally kissing Jenna, trying to purge of every inappropriate feeling he held towards her niece.

* * *

He genuinely liked Jenna. It wasn’t as if he was trying to use Jenna to get closer to Elena; Jenna was everything he _should_ want in a relationship. And when they were together, Alaric felt like the man he used to be, the man who had been friends with Ben Peters, played pick-up basketball on Thursday afternoons, and considered a bag of Doritos an acceptable dinner.

Jenna made him laugh. She never commented on the fact the only things in his refrigerator were mustard and a pack of pepperoni slices. When she drank too much, she’d do this thing where she’d rest her head on his shoulder and rub her cheek against his shirt, her signal she wanted to go home. These were reasons he liked her, reasons he hoped would become the basis for loving her.

These were the things running through his mind as he and Elena knelt beside her on the kitchen floor, the knife embedded deep in Jenna’s stomach due to Katherine’s compulsion.

Alaric had gotten used to death; since learning the truth about the supernatural, he came to expect it. But he did not want to lose another woman he cared about to a vampire, and he especially did not want to see Elena and Jeremy lose the only person they had left.

When Jenna stabilized, squeezing his hand through the morphine fog, Alaric whispered for her to get some rest, pressing a kiss to her pale forehead, promising to stay with the kids until she was better.

It wasn’t until he said it out loud Alaric realized he was the closest thing to a father figure Jeremy and Elena had now, something that made the shame burn even stronger in his gut.

The entire house was dark except for the kitchen. Alaric set his keys on the counter, shrugging out of his coat, curious to see what was going on. And there, on her hands and knees, was Elena, scrubbing at the blood on the floor, crying so hard her entire body was shaking.

“Elena,” he ventured, keeping his voice so as not to startle her.

“This is all my fault,” she sobbed, her fists clutching the rag even tighter. “I didn’t listen. Katherine – Katherine – she warned me and I didn’t listen.”

“This is not your fault. What Katherine did – “

“She did because I didn’t listen when it came to Stefan, because I was selfish!” Shoving the rag into the soapy bucket beside her, she finally looked up at him, her entire face puffy from crying, eye makeup everywhere. “Jenna gave up everything to take care of us, and I couldn’t even break up with my boyfriend. And now she’s in the hospital and she could’ve died and – “

Alaric knelt down beside her, gently moving the bucket out of the way as he wrapped her up into a hug. “Jenna is going to be fine. The doctors said she’ll be back to normal in a few weeks.”

“She shouldn’t have to wait a few weeks,” Elena cried against his chest. “She shouldn’t have to heal at all!”

“Elena…”

“I broke up with Stefan tonight,” she whimpered, her wet fingers twisting into the cotton of his shirt. “I should’ve done it weeks ago and – “

Rubbing her back, Alaric gently shushed her, adjusting their bodies until he was leaning back against the refrigerator, Elena sobbing in his lap.

Elena cried herself to sleep on the floor where Jenna nearly died.

Alaric knew for certain he was in over his head.

* * *

The terror Alaric felt during the 18 hours Elena was missing was so acute, he was not sure how he managed to maintain a false front for Jenna. He hadn’t felt this kind of fear since the first days of Isobel’s disappearance, and it killed him to know Elena could be dead while he was trapped in Mystic Falls, faking interest in the movies Jenna wanted to watch on television. Alaric was fully prepared to lose his mind when he received the text message from Damon which succinctly read: **We’ve got her. She’s fine.**

He excused himself, pressing a kiss to the crown of Jenna’s head before locking himself in his bathroom; the moment the door closed, Alaric sat on the edge of the tub, his head in his hands, releasing a long, shaky breath of relief.

Elena was in the shower by the time Alaric brought Jenna home. As Jenna drifted off to sleep, the opiates working their way through her bloodstream, Jeremy explained what had happened earlier in the evening, complete with an Original named Elijah. Alaric could read the fear all over Jeremy’s face, the nervous anticipation of what was to come.

“They’re going to keep coming for her,” Jeremy stated, his shoulders sagging under the weight of what was to come.

“We’ll protect her,” Alaric assured him, absently gazing at the stairs.

“You really think we’re going to be able to?”

Alaric wasn’t sure, but he knew he would die trying.

* * *

Two nights later, Alaric was grading papers when someone knocked on his door. He expected it to be Damon, who dropped by some evenings to have a drink, or even Jenna, who was becoming more mobile every day; he was not expecting Elena, swaying somewhat unsteadily on her feet.

“Elena?”

She smiled lazily, leaning against the doorframe. “Hey, Ric.”

Instantly Alaric knew what was going on. “You’re drunk.”

Elena nodded slowly, stepping into his personal space as she attempted to pass by him. Alaric moved out of the way, watching in surprise as she shed her coat and sweater, dropping down onto his couch in nothing but her jeans and camisole.

“Sorry for just showing up but you live the closest to the Grill.”

“You got served at the _Grill_? How?”

Her giggle was positively girlish. “A boy thought I was hot. And then he bought me a lot of shots. And now I’m drunk!”

“Does Stefan know where you are?”

Elena shook her head, snuggling into the cushions in an attempt to get comfortable. “He and Damon are having a powwow about what Katherine told me.”

“You talked to Katherine? About what?”

“About why Rose and Trevor kidnapped me and why Elijah came for me. There’s a very bad vampire named Klaus and he wants to sacrifice me and Tyler and Caroline and Bonnie to break a curse. And Katherine is afraid of him, so he’s going to kill me.”

“No one’s going to kill you, Elena.”

“I know. That’s why I came here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Vampires can come into the boardinghouse and Jenna can be compelled; and even if she’s not compelled, she could just invite him in, you know? But _you_ …you’ll never invite anyone in. I’m safe here.” Tears swelling in her eyes, she whimpered, “I just wanna feel safe again.”

With a sigh, Alaric crouched down beside her, gently brushing the loose hair away from her flushed face. “Elena – “

“I feel safe with you,” she cut in, touching his face with clumsy fingers. “Am I safe with you, Ric?”

“Always,” he swore.

Her eyes drifting shut, she whispered, “I love the way you look at me.”

He moved her to his bed, tucking the blankets around her, her dark hair scattered across the crisp white of his pillows.

In the morning, Alaric awoke to the smell of bacon. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he sat up on the couch to see Elena standing at the stove making breakfast, her wet hair wrapped tightly into a bun, wearing her jeans and a dark undershirt Alaric recognized from his own closet.

“’Morning.”

Elena spun around, startled, before relaxing into a smile. “I figured the least I could do for showing up on your doorstep like a drunk, crazy person was make you breakfast.”

“Coffee?”

Elena pointed to the freshly brewed pot before turning her attention back to the skillet. “I’m really sorry for doing this. I don’t – I mean, I’m not – It won’t ever happen again.”

“You’re always welcome here, Elena. Though the stealing my clothes is new.”

Elena turned a brilliant shade of scarlet, tugging self-consciously at the bottom of the tank. “About four in the morning the tequila made an unexpected reappearance. It got on my shirt. I’ll wash it and bring it back – “

“Elena, I’m teasing,” he interrupted with a chuckle. “Trust me: I’ve done far more embarrassing things while wasted. And it sounded like you were pretty upset.”

Carefully setting the bacon on a plate, Elena twisted off the burner, trying to busy herself with the meal. “I shouldn’t have put that on you. I really am sorry, Ric. You shouldn’t have to deal with me just showing up and taking over and – “

He pressed a finger to her lips without thinking. “Just stop, okay? You are always welcome here, Elena, no matter what.”

She looked up at him beneath her lashes, her eyes swelling with emotion, and Alaric felt the last tenuous hold on his control break. Before he could even consider the ramifications of what he was about to do, Alaric inclined his head, his lips brushing across Elena’s whisper soft. Almost immediately she pulled back, surprise on her face, and he was about to apologize when she stepped forward and tentatively pressed her mouth against his.

Her mouth tasted of peppermint and coffee, her tongue hot against his; when he settled his hands against the curve of her waist, Elena whimpered sweetly into his mouth, stretching up on her toes in an attempt to get closer. 

And then she was pulling away, horror all over her pretty face.

“Oh god!” she gasped, rushing into the living room, grabbing her discarded sweater and coat.

“Elena, wait!” he called as he followed, trying to will away the erection now pressing against his zipper.

“Please don’t tell Jenna,” Elena implored before disappearing out into the early morning, leaving Alaric to stare after her, angrier at himself than he had ever been in his entire life.

* * *

Alaric knew he needed to break up with Jenna. 

Despite his affection for her, Alaric knew he was being bitterly unfair; it now went far beyond the secrets he kept or what really happened to Isobel. He had _made out_ with her _niece_ , was deeply regretful it hadn’t gone further than it did, and the idea Jenna would one day find out about this betrayal made Alaric physically nauseous. Jenna did not deserve what he was doing to her.

And yet every time Ric went to end things, he found himself unable to make the words come out, to shatter the fragile sense of normalcy he had built with Jenna Sommers.

Family Night was every Wednesday night; it was the one night of the week Jenna insisted Jeremy and Elena be home, a tradition which had apparently existed before Miranda and Grayson Gilbert had died that Jenna insisted on continuing. When Jenna extended the offer, Alaric wanted to refuse it, wanted to have the strength to say no, pack up his apartment, and flee Mystic Falls.

But it had been a very long time since Alaric felt like part of a family.

Jenna answered the door, greeting him with a kiss and a smile, thanking him for the bottle of wine he brought. The smell of the food was heavenly and instantly Alaric knew Jenna was not cooking, a suspicion confirmed when he entered the kitchen to find Elena at the stove, a recipe card in her hand.

“Elena’s making us Grayson’s chicken Alfredo,” Jenna informed him as she uncorked the wine, pouring a glass for him and then herself. “It’ll be the best thing you’ve ever had in your mouth.”

“If I can ever read his writing,” Elena piped up, frowning.

“Want me to take a crack at it?” At Elena’s cautious expression, he added, “I spend a lot of time deciphering bad handwriting. How else could I grade Jeremy’s papers?”

“Hey!” Jeremy called from his position on the couch, Xbox controller in hand.

Elena held out the card to him. “I can’t figure out what the last few ingredients are.”

They worked in companionable silence, Jenna and Jeremy going head-to-head in a battle to the death, and Alaric couldn’t help but smile at the pride which flooded her face when she tasted the sauce.

“Just like your dad’s?”

Elena nodded, carefully gathering some on the wooden spoon and holding it out to him. “Taste.”

Alaric obediently opened his mouth, gathering the concoction on his tongue. “Jenna’s right. That might be the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

Elena’s eyes darkened, a bright blush blooming high on her cheeks, and Alaric instantly wanted to kick himself for not thinking. And then she softly chuckled and, dropping her voice to a barely audible whisper, asked, “Is it always going to be this weird?”

“No,” he swore in the same hushed tone. “Elena, I want you to know – “

“Not now,” she interrupted, her eyes flicking towards the living room, Jenna’s taunting shouts and Jeremy’s claims of cheating drowning out their voices. “Later, okay?”

He nodded, lifting the pot to strain the penne.

Sometimes it worried Alaric how good he had become at pretending. As he sat at the Gilbert dining room table, taking part in an almost endless stream of conversations about mundane topics, he couldn’t help but wonder if it would always be like this, if deception was going to remain such an integral part of his life. He understood it was essential to keeping Jenna safe, but Alaric was starting to hate the man he was becoming, the kind of man who lied to a woman he cared about and lusted after her underage niece.

And then Elena looked up from her plate and smiled sadly, and Alaric knew he was going to remain whatever man he needed to be to stay close to her.

* * *

“This would kill Jenna,” Elena said later in the darkened living room. She was curled up on the couch in her pajamas, her robe cinched tightly at her waist, her hair pulled back in a messy bun; Alaric couldn’t remember her ever looking so young before.

He sat in the easy chair in his own pajamas, an ear out for any movement from upstairs where Jenna and Jeremy were asleep. “I know.”

“And I don’t want this to ruin…I like talking to you, Ric, and I don’t want what I did to make it so we can’t talk anymore.”

“What _you_ did? Elena, what happened was _my_ fault. _I_ initiated it. _I_ crossed the line. You shouldn’t blame – “

“But I kissed you back!” she hissed, twisting the cuffs of her sleeves anxiously. “I could’ve stopped it right away and I didn’t! And if Jenna knew that – “

“Jenna will never know that,” Alaric insisted. “I don’t want to hurt Jenna either, Elena. That’s why I’m going to end things – “

“You can’t!” Elena interrupted, her eyes wide. “Jenna loves you, Ric. And I know you love her too. She’s going to need you after…”

“After what?” 

The ensuing silence was deafening, and Alaric knew instantly what she meant.

“You’re not dying, Elena.”

Getting to her feet, she sighed, “The deal’s already been made. Elijah gave me his word he’d keep you safe, and I know what I have to do. And I need you to be here for Jenna and Jeremy when it’s over.”

“Don’t put that on me.”

“It’s you or John, Ric, and I can’t trust him with the people I love.”

“You’re asking me to just sit around and wait for you to die! Does Stefan know – “

“Don’t bring him into this! This isn’t about Stefan! I’m telling you this because I trust you, Ric, and I trust that you will do what’s best for my family because you want them to be your family too.” Unshed tears welling, she gritted out, “You searched for Isobel for years because you loved her so much; you learned everything you could about vampires so you could avenge her. Stefan loves me and Damon would do anything to save me, but you’re the only one who understands what it’s like to be left behind. I need you to hold them together, especially Jeremy.”

Ric pushed himself to his feet, emotion now stinging his throat. “And who’s going to hold _me_ together, Elena?”

The tears hit her cheeks quickly, her lower lip quivering pathetically. “I don’t _want_ this, Ric! But Klaus killed _anyone_ Katherine had ever cared about. And I can’t be like Katherine; I can’t live with that on my conscience for eternity. I can’t watch everyone die because of me!”

“And I can’t watch you die!” he fiercely declared, moving closer to her in an effort to keep his voice down. 

Elena opened her mouth to respond before shaking her head, trying to push past him and head upstairs. Alaric gripped her upper arm, spinning her back around, the momentum sending Elena tumbling into his chest. She slipped her arms around him, holding him tightly as she rested her forehead against his breastbone.

“Please don’t hate me,” she pled into the cotton of his shirt.

Alaric rested his chin atop her head, his hands soothingly stroking her back.

He wished he could hate her.

* * *

The night he put the dagger through Elijah’s heart, all Alaric could think about was the threat he posed to Elena. He heard the threat Elijah was making to Damon and John, casually explaining how he would take Elena away and how they’d never see her again, and Alaric suddenly knew he would do anything to prevent that. Damon’s plan was reckless and stupid – Damon’s plans were _always_ reckless and stupid – but Alaric suddenly realized Damon was _right_. As long as Elijah lived, he would be a threat to Elena.

And then Elijah disappeared and Damon went off to warn Stefan and Elena, and all Alaric could think about was how he might have just signed Elena’s death warrant himself.

As he stood in the Gilbert kitchen, listening to Jenna challenge him about the lies he had spun throughout their relationship, hearing the pain and betrayal over Isobel in her voice, Alaric knew he could not handle this anymore. He did not want to be the man who did this to Jenna Sommers; he did not want to be the type of man John Gilbert was.

A peaceful calm descended upon him as he set the ring on the counter, John’s smug face taunting him for a reaction. He knew how well the ring could protect him, but Ric no longer wanted the damned thing, Isobel’s parting gift, the twisted token of John Gilbert’s adolescence affection.

Alaric was willing to die if it meant he could finally be free of Isobel Flemming.

* * *

He knew it was wrong to pull Elena into his classroom to discuss the situation with Jenna, but he needed her to understand why he was going to be unable to uphold his promise. But then Elena started encouraging him to tell Jenna the truth, and Alaric realized sometime between his arrival in Mystic Falls and that moment, the truth stopped being important.

Alaric thought the conversation was over when Elena asked, “Why did you give John your ring?”

“It’s his ring.”

“It’s _your_ ring. Isobel gave it to you.”

“And I don’t want it anymore.”

Elena rolled her eyes. “You’re being stupid.”

The criticism stung sharper than it should have and Alaric bristled at her tone. “Look, Elena, I don’t expect you to understand – “

“Don’t act like I’m some stupid kid who doesn’t know what’s going on,” she cut in, irritation flitting across her features. “You’re pissed at John and you’re still pissed at Isobel, and you don’t want the ring as a reminder. Believe me: I get it.” Reaching into her pocket, Alaric was stunned to see her produce his ring. 

“How did you – “

“I told John I wanted to wear it. He wants me safe, so he gave it back.”

“If he sees me wearing it – “

“I don’t care.” Crossing the room, Elena held out to him expectantly. “I need to know you’re safe, Ric, and I need you to wear this.” When he made no motion to accept it, she added, “It’s not from Isobel or John. It’s _my_ ring and I’m giving to _you_. Will you wear it?”

Alaric nodded reluctantly, slipping the ring firmly back into place.

It felt like a shackle, tethering him to Elena for as long as he lived.

* * *

There was nothing as satisfying as the connection of his fist into John Gilbert’s face. From the first moment he had sauntered into town weeks earlier, it was all Alaric could think about, how desperately he wanted to wipe the smug look off of his face. And now, with everything falling apart so spectacularly, Alaric decided it was not worth pretending like he was the better man.

Alaric Saltzman was _done_ being the better man. It never got him anywhere.

He apologized to Elena (who actually looked pretty pleased with the turn of events) before hurrying to his car, needing to put as much space between himself and John Gilbert as humanly possible. Perversely, Alaric wondered if he could persuade Damon to finally murder John and then quickly hated himself for thinking it.

When Isobel appeared in front of his car to offer an apology, Alaric was stunned to realize just how little her declaration meant. There had been a time when all he had longed for in the world was to hear his wife’s voice again, to hear her say she loved him, but this Isobel was not the Isobel he married, the Isobel he wanted to start a family with and spend the rest of his days beside. 

When the world goes black, Isobel walking away yet again, Alaric’s last thought was of Elena.

* * *

While Klaus was in his body, Alaric was aware of nothing. It was the worst feeling in the world, to be cast into utter darkness with no respite, no concept of time; Alaric had never truly considered eternity until faced with the prospect of being in limbo indefinitely.

When he came back to his body, he was lying on the floor of the Gilbert living room, a large bloodstain over his heart, Stefan, Elena, Damon, and Elijah surrounding him. As he coughed at the familiar burn of oxygen reentering his lungs, Elena’s eyes closed, a shaky exhalation leaving her lips.

“What happened?” he gritted out as he hauled himself into a sitting position.

“Klaus possessed you,” Stefan succinctly explained.

Damon held up the dagger Alaric had forced through Elijah’s heart. “And then we killed him…in your body anyway. Good thing you were sporting your pope ring; otherwise this story’s ending would not be quite so happy.”

Alaric could not help but look at the Original standing near the couch, fear twisting in his chest. Elijah looked back at him, his face blank, before assuring him, “You’re still on the list, Alaric; I won’t seek revenge for what you did.”

Alaric almost wished he would.

* * *

For the next two days, Alaric did not leave his apartment. It was the only place he could guarantee was safe, the only place no vampire (other than Damon) could enter. He sat, he drank, he scrubbed Katherine’s blood from the carpet; Alaric did everything he possibly could do but he still could not sleep. Despite the exhaustion which positively filled him, he was terrified to close his eyes and hurtle back into the blackness, into nothingness.

On the third day of his self-imposed exile, Elena used Jenna’s key to let herself into the apartment. Alaric did not move from his position on the couch, a glass of bourbon clutched tightly in his right hand; he was not drunk (yet) but it was only a matter of time.

“We’re all worried about you,” Elena began, nervous hands straightening the mess on the coffee table. “Damon said you won’t answer the phone – “

“Then I guess I don’t want to talk,” he interrupted, enjoying the brusqueness of his voice, the way it made her draw back momentarily.

“You’re our friend, Ric. We just want to make sure you’re okay.”

He laughed mirthlessly, taking a heavy swallow from his drink. “Yeah, I’m peachy-fucking-keen, Elena. So if that’s everything…you can go.”

Alaric wanted her to recoil, maybe even tear up; he wanted her to hate him, to leave his apartment and never return. It would be easier if she hated him, if she wasn’t looking at him with such tenderness and guilt; it would be easier if he didn’t desperately want for her to wrap her arms around him and make the hurt go away.

“Why, so you can drink yourself to death?” Elena shook her head, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. “I’m not going anywhere, Ric, not until I know you’re okay.”

“Elena – “

“I’m sorry this happened to you, that Klaus compelled Isobel to do this,” she rambled, “and I’m sorry Isobel is dead and that Klaus used your body, that I had to wake up Elijah and that Damon had to kill you so you could…be you again. And I understand if you hate me because it’s all my fault; if you weren’t a part of my life, Klaus never would have used you, and I am sorry for that. If you want me out of your life, okay, but I care about you and I don’t want you to fall apart.”

“I don’t blame you,” he rasped after a beat, setting the bourbon on the table. “It’s not your fault that you’re a doppelganger.”

“Then why won’t you look at me?” she asked, her voice cracking.

Alaric lifted his head, finally meeting her gaze. With a shaky exhalation, he confessed, “Because I want you so badly and I don’t have it in me to fight it right now.”

He waited for her to excuse herself, to apologize and leave the apartment, return to Stefan’s embrace; instead, she stepped forward, her fingers sliding into his hair as she tilted his head up to look at her. Instinctually Alaric settled his hands on her hips, tugging her closer.

“Just tell me what you need,” Elena implored, her eyes wet with emotion.

Alaric exhaled shakily, resting his head against her sternum, holding her as if she was all that was keeping him from blowing away. “Stay with me.”

“As long as you need,” she swore, stroking his hair soothingly. 

He was asleep within an hour.

* * * 

It was the middle of the night when Alaric awoke, rubbing at his face as the disorientation faded away. The shades were drawn over the windows, only the glow of his alarm clock providing any light, but it was the warmth beside him which brought Alaric fully back to consciousness.

Elena laid beside him, sleeping comfortably on her left side, her hair falling across her face. In sleep, she looked unbearably young and incredibly peaceful, her face relaxed for the first time in weeks. Alaric could not help but carefully reach over to brush the hair back from her face. At the touch of his skin against hers, Elena’s eyes fluttered open, a soft smile upon her lips.

For a moment, it was as if the world stopped. And then Alaric leaned over, his fingers sliding into Elena’s hair and drew her in for a kiss.

If she would have protested, Alaric would have stopped, drawn back, and immediately apologized; instead, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him more fully against her, and Alaric knew he was lost.

Elena trembled as he drew his lips down her throat, his tongue tracing the line of her collarbone. His hands slipped beneath her shirt, slowly drawing it upwards, awaiting the rejection; when she lifted her arms to help, Alaric resisted the urge to thank god, tossing the shirt away from the bed before exploring her warm, olive skin.

So absorbed in discovering her, Alaric was surprised when she grunted his name while tugging at the front of his shirt. He pulled back, afraid she was trying to stop everything, only to laugh as she pulled his shirt off, pressing a kiss beneath his ear.

For some reason, whenever he imagined them like this (and he had imagined it far more frequently than any respectable authority figure should have), he had imagined Elena to be passive, to be pretty and delicate, the sort of woman who wanted you to make love to her sweetly. It was more than a pleasant surprise when she pushed him onto his back, her fingers hooking into the waistband of his pajamas, tugging down the fabric before shedding her jeans, returning to the bed in nothing but her smile.

“Let me take care of you,” she murmured as she straddled him, sliding her hands up his chest, setting his body alight. They kissed, long and deep, before he broke away, gasping as she playfully nipped his jaw.

“What if I want to take care of _you_?” he countered, writhing as she rolled her hips against his erection.

She flicked her gaze up, sadness clouding her eyes momentarily as she replied, “I’m really tired of people taking care of me.”

Alaric pushed the hair back over her shoulders, hauling himself into a sitting position, Elena now balanced on her knees over his lap. Cupping her face, he suggested in a whisper, “We could always just take care of each other.”

She smiled against his mouth, slightly shifting her body before slowly descending onto him. As he moaned at the feel of her body surrounding him, Elena exhaled, “Perfect.”

Alaric wasn’t sure if she was talking about his suggestion or how well their bodies fit together.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

* * *

Later, as the sun rose over Mystic Falls, they sat on his couch eating breakfast, Elena in his t-shirt, Alaric in his pajama pants. After two rounds of fairly exhaustive sex, they had napped for a couple of hours before rising again, Elena volunteering to make breakfast.

They ate quietly, the silence comfortable, before Elena finally said, “I don’t want you to think…I mean…I’ve never done this before.”

“Slept with your history teacher?” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Elena smiled despite herself before clarifying, “Cheated. I’ve never cheated on someone before.”

Alaric has; long before he ever came to Mystic Falls, he cheated on his girlfriend of two years with a pretty brunette he met in the bookstore, a parapsychology major he ended up marrying. “Okay.”

“I don’t want…” Setting her plate onto the coffee table with an exasperated sigh, she blurted out, “I’m not like _them_.”

He knew she meant Katherine and Isobel; he couldn’t imagine what it was like to know they were the examples of the women in her family. “I never thought you were.”

“I don’t want to hurt Jenna or Stefan. Or Damon,” she added with a rueful twist of her mouth. “I don’t want to be the reason they’re hurt.”

“They don’t have to know. This,” he said, gesturing to the two of them, “doesn’t have to go beyond right now.”

Elena looked down as she asked, “Is that what you want, for this to never happen again?”

Alaric shook his head. “No but this can’t…Even if we take away Jenna and Stefan, I’m still your teacher. And believe me when I say John would do everything he could to make sure life becomes very rough for me in Mystic Falls.”

In a voice so soft Alaric had to strain to hear her, Elena confessed, “I wish I had met you later.”

And then Alaric was crossing the cushions, breakfast forgotten.

* * *

For the three days following their night spent together, life was as normal as it ever got in Mystic Falls. Elijah helped prepare them for Klaus, Stefan and Damon plotted with Bonnie’s assistance, and Alaric made vervain grenades and showed Jeremy how to use weapons in his arsenal. Jenna, who now knew what was going on, kept a careful distance, clearly reeling from learning everything and the secrets which had been kept from her. Alaric did not begrudge her the sense of anger and betrayal she felt; he could not imagine what it was like to find out everyone you loved was actively involved in a conspiracy to keep you in the dark.

And then everything blew apart.

They were all gathered in the boardinghouse having what Caroline called “the war council.” Elena was perched on the arm of the couch beside Stefan, Damon was near the fireplace, Caroline and Tyler sat on the floor, and Jeremy was in the easy chair, holding the laptop which allowed Bonnie to participate. Elijah and Katherine were discussing Klaus in Bulgarian, Katherine shouting in her typically spoiled manner, boredom all over Elijah’s features, and Alaric couldn’t help but wonder how they were ever possibly going to win.

To be honest, Alaric did not even know how it came to be. He was daydreaming, his thoughts a million miles away, when Katherine and Elena began to snipe at each other. It had become so commonplace, Alaric had long since ceased paying attention; he was in the middle of idly browsing the internet on his phone when Katherine’s crisp voice snapped, “That’s rich coming from the girl who’s fucking the teacher!”

Instantly Alaric’s head snapped up, hoping his guilt wasn’t written all over his face; Elena sat frozen, shock and shame all over her face, and Alaric knew without a doubt this was going to be how he died.

He was expecting Stefan to fly at him, for Damon to snap his neck without hesitation; instead, Alaric barely had time to register the sound of the laptop crashing to the floor before Jeremy was on him, his fist crashing spectacularly into his face. Alaric did not bother to block the blows; he deserved them for what he had done to Jenna, to Elena.

It was chaos as Tyler pulled Jeremy away, Stefan attacked Katherine, and Caroline fled the room, the smell of the blood gushing from his nose too strong for her. It was Elijah of all people who helped him to his feet, handing him a handkerchief before suggesting, “You should probably leave now.”

“I will fucking kill you!” Jeremy shouted as Tyler and now Damon tried to hold the boy back, adrenaline and rage fueling the teenager.

“Stop it!” Elena begged, tears on her cheeks, her hands pressed against Jeremy’s chest.

“Don’t touch me!” her brother shouted, jerking backwards. “You’re worse than _she_ is!”

It was the sound of Elena’s heartbroken sob which followed Alaric out the door.

* * *

Jenna showed up on his doorstep that night.

Her face was tearstained from hours of obvious crying, but her body was tense with anger, her features blatantly disgusted. Alaric knew instantly Jeremy had told her what happened, and Alaric had never hated himself quite so intensely as he did in that moment.

“Is it true?” she gritted out, her voice trembling with repressed anger.

“Jenna – “

“Did you sleep with Elena?” she cut in.

Alaric nodded, jerking at the force of the slap which followed his admission.

“I _loved_ you,” Jenna hissed, fresh tears in her eyes. “I thought we were going to have a life together, a _future_ together. And you were _fucking_ my _seventeen_ -year-old _niece_.”

“I wasn’t,” he immediately objected. “Elena and I never – “

“I’m sorry; are you debating the degree to which you violated my trust?!” Jenna snapped, body vibrating with fury. When he said nothing, she continued, “I thought you would be good for her, a _father figure_ ; after all, you’re her _stepfather_! And instead…” Her voice trailed off, the tears momentarily overpowering her.

“Jenna, Elena and I – “

“No!” she interrupted, wiping the tears away with determination. “You do _not_ her name. As of today, you don’t know Elena. You will _never_ come near her again. You have two choices here, Ric: you pack your shit and get the hell out of this town or I’m going straight to Liz Forbes and telling her what you did. Do you understand me?”

“Yes.”

She shook her head, pushing her hair back from her face, clearly resisting the urge to strike him again. “She’s _seventeen_ , Ric. She’s a fucked-up seventeen-year-old kid who lost her parents and needed you to be there for her, and you slept with her. Do you have any idea the damage you have caused? Do you care?”

“Of course I care.”

Jenna scoffed. “I know everyone thinks I’m a shitty guardian but I love Elena. And every day I have to live with the fact that the boyfriend _I_ brought into the house did this, took advantage of her like this. Jeremy won’t even speak to her. You were the closest thing he had left to a father, and you slept with his _sister_! Do you realize how badly you have hurt everyone in this family?”

“Jenna, I never meant – “

“Pack your shit and leave my town,” Jenna reiterated, “or I swear to you, Stefan Salvatore will be the least of your problems.”

And then Jenna Sommers turned on her heel and left Alaric’s life completely.

* * *

Stefan showed up an hour later.

“I’m not going to kill you,” the vampire said by way of greeting. “I think we should talk.”

Alaric wasn’t sure if he trusted him; he invited him anyway.

“She told me everything,” Stefan began over bourbon, his voice amazingly detached. “She said it was all her fault.”

“It wasn’t,” Alaric instantly objected.

Stefan nodded. “I know. She’s afraid we’re going to kill you.”

“But you’re not.”

“ _I’m_ not.” Taking a heavy swallow of bourbon, Stefan admitted, “I’m not quite sure about Damon. He’s taking this…pretty hard.”

“Harder than you?”

“ _You’re_ not my best friend, my _only_ friend. I think you betraying him bothers him more than Elena sleeping with you.” Finishing his glass and pouring another, Stefan added with a smirk, “The sleeping with my girlfriend bothers me more.”

“We never intended for this to happen. She loves you.”

“I know she does. This is tearing her apart. But the thing is…she loves you too.”

Alaric swallowed hard, shaking his head almost absentmindedly. “No, Stefan, it’s not – “

“She doesn’t want to be a vampire,” he interrupted. “I don’t want her to be one either, but it’s the only way we would ever be able to have a life together. Vampires and humans in the long-term…it gets pretty ugly. I think it’s taken this long for it to start to sink in for her, that there isn’t going to be a happy ending for us no matter how hard we try.”

Alaric poured himself another glass. “Stefan – “

“She deserves a happy ending,” Stefan concluded, throwing back his bourbon like a shot before rising to his feet. “I’m not giving you permission to be with her; quite frankly, I’d rather kill you. But if she wants you…I won’t stop it.”

Sometimes Alaric forgot Stefan was 163-years-old until moments like this, moments where the age and wisdom in his voice overpowered the visual he presented.

“But Damon isn’t going to be so kind.”

* * *

Damon killed him the next morning. He stuck a knife between two ribs, much the same way he had upon their first encounter, and Alaric drowned in his own blood. When he woke up a few hours later, Damon was watching HBO on the couch, a bottle of half-empty whiskey in his hand.

“Are we even now?” Alaric coughed, wiping the blood from his mouth.

“Well…I _did_ fuck and turn your wife.”

Alaric wasn’t sure what it said about Damon that it was a logical conclusion for his friend to kill him in retribution and consider themselves even.

Alaric _definitely_ wasn’t sure what it said about himself that Damon’s twisted logic was starting to make sense.

They finished the bottle of whiskey in silence.

* * *

Alaric only packed what was necessary, leaving the furniture and tokens of his life with Isobel in the apartment. He had finished securing the last of the boxes when he noticed Elena standing on the sidewalk.

“Running away before the big fight?”

Alaric felt the flush of shame fill his face. “I have to – “

“I know,” she assured him, gesturing to the car. “Jenna told me about the ultimatum. If I survive Klaus, she’s making us go to family therapy.”

“You’ll survive.”

She smiled crookedly. “If ink blots and ‘show me where he touched you’ dolls are in my future, I’d kind of prefer not to.”

Alaric couldn’t help but laugh, relaxing as Elena’s smile grew. “Elena…”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to stay with my parents for awhile, figure some things out.”

“I thought you never wanted to return to Boston.”

Alaric shrugged. “I think I need to remember who I was before… _everything_ happened. Besides, you can’t really hit rock bottom until you’re thirty-three and living with your parents.”

The smile faded from her face as she took a step closer. “I’m so sorry, Ric.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he objected. “I was the adult – “

“Stop, please.” Tentatively touching his chest, Elena moved forward, wrapping her arms around his body and squeezing him tightly. “I’ll miss you.”

He inhaled the scent of her shampoo, hating himself for the stir of arousal in his stomach. “I’ll miss you, too.”

“Are you going to keep in touch?”

Alaric heard the tremor in her voice, the naked longing, and he blinked back the tears in his eyes. “Of course.”

They both knew it was a lie.

Elena brushed her lips against his cheek as she drew back, her eyes swollen with tears. “Be safe. Keep drinking vervain. Let me know you’re alright.”

He nodded, quickly brushing away the tears on his cheeks. “I will.”

“Do you…If I make it, do you want to know?”

Alaric couldn’t bear the idea of her _not_ surviving the sacrifice. But he also knew if she contacted him, he wouldn’t have the strength to stay away.

“Damon will tell me.”

Elena nodded before impulsively jumping forward, mashing her lips against his. Alaric knew he should resist, that kissing her in the street was the surest way to start gossip, but he didn’t care anymore; he was leaving Mystic Falls and he never planned on returning.

He wasn’t sure how long they kissed but then Elena was pulling back, wiping at her face, biting her swollen bottom lip. “You have to go.”

Alaric nodded, taking one step forward to brush one last kiss against her forehead. “I love you,” he whispered selfishly before hurrying to the driver’s side, locking himself in the SUV and pulling away from the curb Elena remained upon, shoulders now bouncing with sobs.

He watched her in the rearview until she disappeared from sight.

And then Alaric Saltzman finally allowed himself to cry over Elena Gilbert.


End file.
